


Just a Piece of Fabric

by Chikita



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys in Skirts, Fluff, M/M, Minor Self-Confidence Issues, Oikawa Tooru in a Skirt, Shopping, Skirts, Slice of Life, supportive iwa-chan, takeru is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22226974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chikita/pseuds/Chikita
Summary: On a random shopping trip with his older sister and nephew, Oikawa develops a foible for skirts and other garments from the women's section. Iwaizumi notices, but Oikawa is less confident about it than one would expect. Luckily, Iwaizumi doesn’t mind that much.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 6
Kudos: 266





	Just a Piece of Fabric

**Author's Note:**

> This right here is me hopping on the "Skirtykawa" train because damn, Oikawa sure looks great in all of those fanarts where he’s wearing a skirt, and I want everyone else to appreciate it. Not really a kink fic or anything, but I’ll always support guys smashing gender roles :3
> 
> Oikawa's sister is named "Mayumi" here, like in dglareb's IwaOi fic "Trouble with Texting". (Please check it out if you haven't already if you want some "actual" IwaOi) I hope they're okay with me adopting the name.

Tooru grumbled as he checked his phone for the dozenth time that afternoon. Still nothing. With a sigh, he shifted his weight and peered around the little corner of the clothes shop his older sister had dragged him into. That had been hours ago. The bag in his other hand was as light as one would expect, given that the only things he’d picked up were a set of black boxers and matching socks. His mother always told him that a boy could never have enough spare underwear. The freaky alien pattern on both items had nothing to do with it.

After scrolling through all five of his main social media accounts for a few more minutes, Tooru tucked his phone back into his pocket and resumed his neverending search. Maybe Mayumi had forgotten about him, and now she and Takeru, Tooru’s nephew, were visiting some cool comic book or gaming store on the other side of the mall. Yeah. That had to be it. Betrayed by his own family when he was the one visiting his sister for once. How _rude._

Tooru huffed as he strolled through the whites, blacks, and greys of the men’s section he loathed from the bottom of his heart, face scrunching up in a frown. Who could blame him for being bored of his mind when everything in his view looked like he could wear it for a funeral without standing out. No colors, no fun patterns except for “nerdy” stuff that he had to dig deep for, very few form-fitting clothes, nothing. This store sucked.

“Yumi-chan?”, Tooru called out loud enough to get her attention, but nobody answered. Maybe she couldn’t hear him after all. In this store, the woman’s section made up more than two-thirds of the items with all kinds of jeans, blouses, tops, skirts, dresses and tons of accessories in several colors. Getting lost here didn’t sound all that implausible.

Out of curiosity and sheer unfiltered _boredom,_ Tooru’s fingers moved over the silky, crimson fabric of one of the nightgowns on a rack he passed. It looked strangely erotic. He could almost imagine Iwa-chan wearing that on one of their sleepovers, instead of the scratchy pajamas he was so drawn to. Tooru only stopped touching said item, when a wrinkly, grey-haired woman a few feet away coughed into her fist, succeeding in making him feel like a creep.

When Tooru turned his head, he shot her one of his trademark fake smiles, apologized in a sickly sweet voice and fled around a corner so he wouldn’t have to answer any awkward questions.

As weird as it was, Tooru couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit jealous of all the vibrant patterns and different types of fabric in this part of the store. This must be why his sister, or most girls he knew, enjoyed shopping so much. Not that there existed a law against buying from the “wrong” section, but there was no way for him to pull off any of those skinny waisted shirts and dresses without looking gross. At least that’s what he told himself over and over in his mind, in hopes of overcoming his strange fascination by discouragement alone.

His tactic worked until he passed a rack with several colorful skirts and short, airy dresses. For a moment, he figured if he was about to develop some weird cross-dressing fetish. If he remembered right from his mother’s tales, he had gone through a phase as a child where he wore more of his sister’s hand me downs than his own clothes. Back then, his parents had been worried and only allowed him to wear the more “frilly” stuff at home until Tooru was old enough to get the hint. Maybe he wasn't quite over that after all, and his former passion was in the process of coming back to haunt him, now that he was old enough to buy his own clothes.

In an act of childlike defiance, Tooru picked up one of the black skirts from the rack, that didn’t scream “girly” and held it up to compare it to the others. It was flared and made out of a stretchy material that felt soft on his hands, the label calling it a “skater skirt”. _What the hell is a skater skirt?_ Aside from that confusion, it didn’t look all that different from a pair of shorts and was less flashy than some of the things he’d seen his sister and ex-girlfriends wear. So what was the big deal? It was just a piece of fabric, right? Not all that different from a pair of shorts.

With that mindset, Tooru tucked the skirt under his arm, turned on his heel and made a beeline for the nearest fitting room. It was only after he was inside the small cubicle with the curtain drawn closed, that he allowed himself to breathe. His heart was thumping in his chest, worrying him, because he sure as hell wasn’t supposed to feel that anxious. Not about something entirely unrelated to school or volleyball, his usual sources of stress.

After he’d set his bag down, Tooru clumsily took off his sneakers but kept his socks on. Next were his jeans which he folded two times before placing them on a stool in the corner, taking another deep breath.

That was all just a fun experiment because he was bored. A simple dress up game. Girls did that all the time, right? Before Tooru could rack his brains about it for a third time, he stepped into the skirt and pulled it up with ease. With how quickly he turned around to face the mirror, he nearly gave himself a whiplash, his reflection staring back at him in all of its wide-eyed glory. He froze, his breath caught in his throat and his cheeks heating up at the sight. _Oh fuck._

Short. It was _short._

Just looking at the item in his hands outside the room, Tooru hadn’t realized how a skirt, that would’ve been at least knee-length on an average-sized teenage girl, would look on, well, a _guy_ of his height. With a bashful chuckle, Tooru tugged at the hem of the skirt, silently wishing it’d stretch a little more than that, but no, not a chance. Well, at least his _underwear_ didn’t show. He pursed his lips, and twirled around, looking at his body from all angles. The black, somewhat silky material covered his backside and most of his thighs but ended a few inches over his knees. Not, that his legs were ugly or anything, but it sure looked risque.

This was ridiculous. He should try to get a different size, or maybe something else entirely. That’s what any normal person in his position would do. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to take it off. As strange as it sounded, he couldn’t remember ever feeling as comfortable wearing a piece of clothing that wasn’t his. Pants were always rough and too tight when he tried them on for the first time, but this was different. It almost felt like he was wearing nothing at all. After getting over the first shock, looking at his reflection in the mirror didn’t make him cringe anymore. Despite how short the skirt was, it didn’t look out of place on him.

Maybe, if he got himself a wig and makeup and fully dressed as a girl, he’d even be able to go out like that without being judged. Thinking about it, Tooru was reminded of that one time he tried using eyeliner in his second year of high school. The hype surrounding some idol singer had made him believe, this would help his popularity with girls. Iwaizumi had told him back then that he’d used so much of that “black junk”, it looked like someone had punched him in the face. So maybe he wasn’t that good with makeup. He hadn’t liked it anyway.

Also, did he actually _want_ to look like a girl? Did he have to? Would he even _pass?_

Just at this moment, his phone started vibrating behind him in his jeans pocket, making him jump in surprise. Tooru picked it up right away and pressed the button to answer the call. He almost ended up dropping the device on the floor with how much his hands were shaking.

“Hey, Yumi-chan,” he said, sounding strangely out of breath, as he held the phone up to his ear, looking over his shoulder at the mirror as he kept talking, “Where are you? I was looking everywhere for you. Did you get swallowed by the bargain bin?”

“I could ask you the same, you cheeky bastard,” she laughed into the phone, her voice slightly distorted, “Gosh, I’ve _finally_ found the dress I wanted, and also got some new clothes for Takeru. We’re ready to leave if you are. Did you find something nice for yourself, too?”

“Uh...kind of. Yeah. We’ll meet at the exit, alright? I’ll be there in a minute. Don’t run away,” Before Mayumi could answer, Tooru ended the call, took off the skirt in lightning speed and tried to make himself look somewhat presentable. When he dared a final glance at the mirror, his face was still flushed and his hair sticking out like he'd just fallen out of bed. Regardless, the longer he kept his sister and nephew waiting, the more suspicion would arise. Without further hesitation, Tooru shoved the skirt into his bag and left the cubicle, feeling like some kind of delinquent.

“I hate shopping. It’s so boring,” Takeru complained as the three of them were waiting at the checkout counter. The boy was holding onto his mother’s hand and kept kicking the floor with one foot, wiggling around like he was either suffering from a lack of exercise or really had to pee. Probably both. Tooru was about to remind his favorite and only nephew, that _maybe_ they wouldn’t have gone shopping if a certain someone hadn’t ripped his old shorts on the same fence three times in a row. But then, as if on cue, it was his turn to pay for his clothes.

 _Shit._ His stomach dropped and his hands started sweating when it dawned on him. The _skirt._

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Tooru walked up to the counter on stiff legs and handed over his bag with a smile that probably looked like he had bitten into a lemon. The woman behind the counter raised her brows at him for a second, before emptying his bag out on the table in order to scan the barcodes. With a heavy flush of shame, Tooru tried to plant himself in front of said table, spreading out his arms to block out the view, but Takeru wasn’t easily fooled.

_Stupid, nosy kid._

“Why did y’a buy a skirt, Tooru-kun?”, he asked in that faux-innocent children’s voice of his and stepped closer to take a better look. A part of Tooru wanted to be honest and admit, that _yes,_ Takeru-chan, your uncle apparently has a soft spot for women’s garments, and it’s not a sex thing, I promise, just don’t tell everyone at school! But Takeru was only eight, and Tooru kind of wanted to keep “babysitting” him sometimes without his sister labeling him a bad influence on her son.

“It’s for my girlfriend. She told me she always wanted one like that,” he voiced the first thing his mind came up with, beads of sweat forming on his temples, “Poor girl sprained her foot during gym class and can’t walk to the store alone, so I thought I’ll be a good boyfriend and buy it for her.”

“Wow. That’s...more considerate than I would’ve ever expected from you. I sure hope you got the right size,” Mayumi said with a chuckle and tucked a strand of long hair behind her ear, her voice dripping with mockery. Tooru fought the urge to stick out his tongue, but before he could properly embarrass himself on his own, Takeru decided to “help”. _Of course,_ he did.

“You mean Kaori-san? The one with the bird’s nest on her head? Didn’t you two break up last year?”, he spoke loud enough that the whole store could hear it, “I thought, you said you never wanted another girlfriend after that one time you accidentally-”

“Takeruuu, what did I tell you about gossiping about other people’s private lives?”, Tooru snapped more flustered than angry and pulled his nephew into a headlock to cover his mouth. The woman at the counter didn’t even react to the unusual display, only stated how much he had to pay in a monotone voice. People started whispering behind their backs, and Tooru even recognized the wrinkly hag from before giving him the stink eye again. _Great._

“Sorry,” Takeru mumbled behind his hand and rolled his eyes far into the back of his head. With a huff, Tooru released the kid, stuck his lower lip out in a pout and reached for the purse in his jeans pocket to pay for his things, at that point almost regretting his unusual purchase. _What was he thinking?_ With a groan, Mayumi shook her head in mock disappointment like the stressed-out parent she was, before taking a step forward to get a better look at the clothes spread out on the counter.

A cheeky grin made its way up her face, dark eyes sparkling with glee. “Not bad, Tooru-chan. I suppose the alien underwear isn’t for your “girlfriend”, huh? Unless she’s into that, I guess.”

A few weeks had passed since that embarrassing incident at the mall. Unsurprisingly, Tooru was still single. That was one of the few promises he’d kept, and wasn’t unhappy about. It made things easier, allowing him to put his full focus on his plan to destroy Tobio-chan and Ushiwaka in volleyball. Fortunately, Mayumi had neither asked about the occurrence that led to his latest breakup nor did she make any more jokes about him wearing feminine clothing.

Tooru wasn’t brave enough to show off the skirt he’d bought in public anyway, only wearing it whenever he was alone. One time, Iwa-chan had caught him in his room on one of his visits, because the boy had no concept of knocking. Tooru had been watching volleyball recordings lying on his stomach, the dark fabric of the skirt bunched around his upper thighs.

Iwaizumi hadn’t made any weird comments about it back then, and even through his reddened face and flustered stammering, told him it was fine, and not gross or anything like that. From that day on, Tooru frequently wore skirts around his...friend? Crush? Boyfriend? Whatever they were at that point, Tooru had never felt like he had to hide any part of himself when Iwa-chan was around. But even then, the outside world was a different story.

Summer break had just started, and the thermometer spoke for itself, the air outside hot and sticky. Iwaizumi was spending the day at Tooru’s house to hang out and kill some time. After playing volleyball in the backyard for about ten minutes, the two of them had plopped themselves in front of the only fan in the house, _Of course,_ the air conditioning had to die on them when they needed it most. A cold shower later, Tooru had announced that instead of getting dressed, he’d rather spend the rest of the afternoon in his underwear and a ratty alien shirt.

“We should get something to cool down. I can’t keep sitting on my ass here for the whole summer. I’ll get cabin fever,” Iwaizumi said after tolerating Tooru’s own complaints about the heat for an hour or more. He himself was dressed in loose, cream-colored shorts and a black tank top that made it hard for Tooru to keep his eyes away from his friend’s toned arms.

“Like, what?” Tooru turned his head to avoid staring, humming quietly as the air from the fan rustled his sweaty hair. For now, he was perfectly content sitting here in his room without moving an inch, just listening to the soft whirring noise of the fan and letting the fake wind mess up his hair. Maybe he should suggest video games, but he wasn’t really motivated.

“There’s this new ice cream shop in town. Makki said they have some decent flavors.” Tooru’s ears perked up at those words. Getting ice cream actually sounded like one of the few things they could do outside today without their skin literally melting off. Besides, he fucking _loved_ vanilla with chocolate sprinkles. And if Makki recommended it, the pickiest eater on earth, that had to mean something. An ice-cream date with Iwa-chan. Cliché, but why not?

“Sounds nice. You always have the best ideas, Iwa-chan. Tell me your secrets, will you?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Iwaizumi barely took note of the cheesy compliment, as he got up, and motioned for Tooru to do the same, “You should get dressed.” Tooru’s brows furrowed and he pouted. “Getting dressed”, of course, meant he would have to put on pants, and even though he usually had no problems with it, right now it sounded like a nightmare. He was sweating buckets just _thinking_ about putting even more restricting clothes on his body.

“It’s too hot. I’m going to die out there,” he answered in a whiny tone. Iwaizumi shot him a death glare from where he stood and crossed his arms over his chest. Tooru looked up at him and shrugged weakly, the corners of his mouth turning down on their own.

“Shittykawa, do you seriously think you can go outside in your underwear? I’m suffering too, ya know?”

“No, but-” Tooru’s voice broke off before he could continue, and he shut his mouth, thinking about what he really wanted to say. Since he’d started wearing skirts and the occasional dress at home, putting on his tight school uniform pants felt almost unnatural at times.

He missed the absolute freedom of movement a skirt provided, the wind swirling around his legs, and the lack of inseams cutting into certain...body parts. It hadn’t been an issue during the winter or even the cooler days of spring, but it was summer. And now they were on break, with nobody out there telling him what to wear and what to be comfortable with.

“I guess, a skirt would work. Maybe.” Tooru averted his eyes, pulled his knees up to his chest and hid the lower half of his face in the crook of his elbow. That’d be better than walking around his underwear, right? _God,_ he could barely handle the embarrassment.

“You’d be okay with that?”, Iwaizumi asked, voice sounding unnaturally gentle, and Tooru almost melted. Now, what was he afraid of? What was the absolute _worst_ thing that could happen? Granted, he could think of several things, but was he going to let his paranoia keep him from enjoying his life? Giving up before even trying, like he almost did in volleyball at one point? Like a coward? No, that was pathetic and he was so much better than that.

“Sure! Why wouldn’t I? Skirts rock, and, if anyone’s got a problem with me wearing one, they’re probably just jealous of my great fashion sense,” Tooru replied and looked up with a wide grin, that was so obviously faked, Iwaizumi’s resulting groan could probably be heard all over Japan.

“Wear what you want, but you should definitely switch out that shirt for one that doesn’t have ramen stains on it. I’m not going in public with you looking like you’ve crawled out of a trash can.”

“Rude!”, Tooru shrieked in faux outrage and puffed up his chest, hands clenched into fists over his bare thighs. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, but Tooru noticed a tiny smile making its way onto his face, accompanied by an even tinier blush, that he _adored_ for how rare it was.

“Shut up, and get changed already.”

A few moments later, Tooru stood in front of his closet, almost chickening out, despite his former boasting. There was a huge difference between feigning confidence, and actually _being_ confident. It seemed like that lesson was one, he had to learn over and over again.

At least he’d stopped using the “girlfriend”-excuse whenever he went shopping. Iwa-chan was right. It wasn’t anyone’s business but his own, and he needed to get that into his thick skull already.

After thinking hard about his options, and walking back and forth in front of his closet like a caged animal, Tooru finally decided on a light blue, flared mini with an elastic inner band. He owned the same type of skirt in different colors. Black, red, yellow, “eggplant” that he swore was just purple, and even one in lime green that Iwaizumi had referred to as an eye assault. But the blue one was his favorite so far. Maybe it was due to the shade reminding Tooru of the cloudless sky outside, or perhaps he even associated it with Seijoh’s volleyball uniform.

Or maybe, he just really liked blue, and all the other colors of the rainbow. Including eggplant and lime green.

“You can be honest with me Iwa-chan. If it looks silly on me, I’m not going to wear it out,” Tooru said as he followed Iwaizumi down the hall that led to the front door. He still didn’t feel quite as confident as he would like to, when looking at his outfit, especially the very breezy, and short skirt sitting on his hips. What if Iwaizumi was only putting up with his weird habits to not upset him, but hated them and felt ashamed about being seen with Tooru.

Doubts were starting to eat him up from inside. What if _that’s_ why he had blushed when seeing him in a skirt for the first time? Or what if they ended up running into someone they knew. Tobio-chan? Or even worse, _Ushiwaka?_ As if he had been reading his mind, Iwaizumi let out an exasperated sigh, turned around, and slapped a hand on Tooru’s shoulder. They held eye contact for a few seconds without blinking, Iwaizumi’s grey ones piercing his own.

“Tooru. It’s just a skirt. Yes, people might look ‘cause it’s a bit unusual, but it’s not like you’re wearing a donkey costume. Also-”, Iwaizumi said somewhat awkwardly, scratched the back of his neck, and continued before Tooru could question the sudden redness on his face, “I’m not an expert on fashion or anything, but if you ask me, that thing looks fucking _great_ on you.”

_Huh?_

Tooru replied with an audible gasp, jaw-dropping as his brain tried its best to process the words he’d just heard. Iwa-chan didn’t just not hate his look, but actually liked it? _Seriously?_

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, right?” He asked with a nervous chuckle and lowered his head, because now he was the one burning up from inside, and this time it had nothing to do with the broken ac. Iwaizumi walked up to him, tilted his head to catch Tooru’s eyes. Despite the size difference being on Tooru’s side, he felt strangely vulnerable.

“First of all, I’m not lying to stroke your ego. It’s big enough on its own.” Tooru opened his mouth to voice his complaints, but before he could reply with his usual “Mean, Iwa-chan!”, Iwaizumi cut him off, “Secondly, even if I _was,_ you shouldn’t have to justify anything. You know I’m cool with you wearing that stuff, and if someone out there isn’t, they can go fuck themselves for all I care. I like you for who you are. Hell, even if you’d go out there wearing that hideous neon green skirt, it doesn’t matter, so do me a favor and stop beating yourself up over nothing!”

Iwaizumi was out of breath when he finished his rant, his cheeks flushed with anger, and his eyebrows furrowed into one of the deepest frowns Tooru had ever seen on a human face. There was an almost comical look to it. “Let’s go already, we wanted to get ice cream, didn’t we?” Iwaizumi turned his back to him as if he hadn’t just lifted a few rocks worth of weight off Tooru’s mind. He made his way towards the door, right hand reaching for the doorknob.

Overwhelmed by a mess of emotions, Tooru closed the distance between the two of them in no more than two steps, wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi’s middle and pressed his cheek against his back. Iwaizumi cursed out in surprise as Tooru more or less crashed into him with his full weight, his body stiffening for a second before he leaned back into his touch. They stayed like this for a while, not uttering a single word while they shared one of those awkward, but weirdly comforting hugs, that always managed to cleanse Tooru’s soul.

“Iwa-chan, that was one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me,” Tooru broke the silence, amused at the muffled sound of his voice against Iwaizumi’s shoulder, tiny tears of happiness and relief forming in the corners of his eyes. What else did he need, but a friend, crush, boyfriend, whatever, who accepted him with all of his flaws and strange quirks.

“Coming from you, that makes me sound like an asshole,” Iwaizumi shot back, his voice lacking its usual edge, “But, we really don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.” Tooru hesitated, still holding onto Iwaizumi’s shirt and inhaling his comforting scent before the two were forced to separate for good. It was getting a bit too warm for them to just cling to each other like that, not to mention awkward. Tooru looked at his friend, whose usual grumpy expression was filled with subtle affection. It made him feel at ease, and much more daring than he would’ve been otherwise.

“I’m good. Let’s enjoy ourselves,” Tooru cheered and exploited the sudden rush of oxytocin to grab Iwaizumi’s hand, intertwining their fingers in a tight squeeze. Determination flooded every corner of his mind. _No,_ he was definitely ready. There was no reason not to be. “I bet you’d look good in a skirt too, just saying. You look good in everything. It’s kind of unfair.”

Iwaizumi huffed and ran his free hand over his glowing face, not letting go of Tooru’s hand, “First you were about to crumble, and now you’re being all smooth and shit. You’re unbelievable.” And who would’ve thought Iwaizumi of all people would be so receptive to flirting? It was kind of endearing, especially since Tooru was usually the one getting flustered. Considering that, his old crush on his childhood friend might not be all that hopeless.

“So mean, Iwa-chan,” Tooru replied in a quiet voice, barely above a whisper, but his words held no weight. Everything felt light and fluttery, and maybe, just maybe, he’d be getting his ice cream date after all. Not something he had planned, but he wasn’t complaining.

Before they left the house, Tooru passed one of the mirrors on the wall and caught a glimpse of his reflection. There he was, wearing a white, fortunately, clean shirt with a blue volleyball print on its front, matching short skirt, black-and-white sneakers, and pink sunglasses in his slightly messy hair. His eyes were bright, and he smiled, earnestly this time, nodding first at himself, then at Iwaizumi. He looked fine. There was nothing wrong with his style, unconventional as it might be. And now, after all that trouble, he could focus his mental energy on the things that really mattered: Getting the biggest vanilla sundae the shop had to offer.

He’d have to thank Makki for that later. And Iwa-chan, of course. Maybe even his sister and Takeru. If it hadn’t been for the little brat ripping holes into his clothes all the damn time, maybe they would’ve never gone to that specific store, and Tooru wouldn’t have gone on this date.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a similar fic about Hinata, but it was so distanced from canon and OC-heavy that I decided to put on Wattpad (called "Shame"). It’s also more angsty than this one. 
> 
> Oikawa is always insanely hard to write for me and I hope I did his character somewhat justice.


End file.
